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Ylzm Apr 12
In the beginning God parted the waters,
     separating heaven and earth
Abraham parted the pieces,
     and a smoking fiery *** passed in between
Israel walked between the waters,
     covered in smoke and fire
So Israel parted in two:
     one remains and the other lost.
Ninety-Three Daughters of Israel
a Holocaust poem by Chaya Feldman
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

We washed our bodies
and cleansed ourselves;
we purified our souls
and became clean.

Death does not terrify us;
we are ready to confront him.

While alive we served God
and now we can best serve our people
by refusing to be taken prisoner.

We have made a covenant of the heart,
all ninety-three of us;
together we lived and learned,
and now together we choose to depart.

The hour is upon us
as I write these words;
there is barely enough time to transcribe this prayer ...

Brethren, wherever you may be,
honor the Torah we lived by
and the Psalms we loved.

Read them for us, as well as for yourselves,
and someday when the Beast
has devoured his last prey,
we hope someone will say Kaddish for us:
we ninety-three daughters of Israel.

Amen

In 1943 Meir Shenkolevsky, the secretary of the world Bais Yaakov movement and a member of the Central Committee of Agudas Israel in New York, received a letter from Chaya Feldman: "I don't know when you will get this letter and if you still will remember me. When this letter arrives, I will no longer be alive. In a few hours, everything will be past. We are here in four rooms, 93 girls ages 14 to 22, all of us Bais Yaakov teachers. On July 27, Gestapo agents came, took us out of our apartment and threw us into a dark room. We only have water to drink. The younger girls are very frightened, but I comfort them that in a short while, we will be together with our mother Sara [Sara Shnirer, the founder of the Bais Yaakov Seminary]. Yesterday they took us out, washed us and took all our clothes. They left us only shirts and said that today, German soldiers will come to visit us. We all swore to ourselves that we will die together. The Germans don't know that the bath they gave us was the immersion before our deaths: we all prepared poison. When the soldiers come, we will drink the poison. We are all saying Viduy throughout the day. We are not afraid of anything. We only have one request from you: Say Kaddish for 93 bnos Yisroel! Soon we will be with our mother Sara. Signed, Chaya Feldman from Cracow." Keywords/Tags: Holocaust, poem, Chaya Feldman, daughters, Israel, washed, cleansed, pure, purified, immaculate, 93, ninety-three, death, God, prayer, heart, covenant, Torah, Psalms, Kaddish
After My Death
by Chaim Nachman Bialik
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Say this when you eulogize me:
Here was a man — now, ****, he's gone!
He died before his time.
The music of his life suddenly ground to a halt...
Such a pity! There was another song in him, somewhere,
but now it's been lost,
forever.
What a pity! He had a violin,
a living, eloquent soul
to which he uttered
the secrets of his heart,
setting its strings vibrating,
save the one he kept inviolate.
Back and forth his supple fingers twirled;
one string alone remained mesmerized,
yet unheard.
Such a pity!
All his life the string quivered,
quavering silently,
yearning for its song, its mate,
as a heart falters before its departure.
Despite constant delays it waited daily,
mutely beseeching its savior, Love,
who lingered, loitered, tarried incessantly
and never came.
Great was the pain!
There was a man — now, ****, he's gone!
The music of his life was suddenly interrupted.
There was another song in him, somewhere,
but now it is lost
forever.

Chaim Nachman Bialik (1873-1934), first name also Hayim or Haim, was a Jewish Holocaust poet who wrote in Hebrew. Bialik was one of the pioneers of modern Hebrew poetry; he came to be recognized as Israel's national poet and the foremost modern Hebrew poet.

Keywords/Tags: Chaim Nachman Bialik, Hebrew, translation, Israel, life, music, violin, song, string, strings, heart, mate, love, pain, lost, forever
Ylzm Mar 9
The faithless believe in belief
The idolatry of his will to believe
Preyed upon by Balaam the prophet
Anointed but evil, speaks truth but lies
Promised escape when Tribulation comes
For a fake ticket, the faithless sold his soul

Does a soldier flee when war arrives?
Was not war the call he obeyed?
When sun’s hidden and moon’s fallen
Light shines most bright on darkened Earth
The Covenant is not of bread alone
But surely all shall drink the Cup too

Israel was embittered against Moses
They’re yet slaves, and their burden heavier
Pharaoh hardened, proud and defiant
Egypt ravaged by plagues and ruined
Israel ate unleavened bread and bitter herbs
Unseen, the Angel of Death passed over
She is supposed to get to live to enjoy life
Her birth is in war
with no baby clothing available
but a blanket and a pillow

Her mother screams
higher than loud booms around
higher than the voices of politicians
It hurts to give birth during wars

She is in a tent
donated by good people
who don’t believe in war
but in love

Her little world is a war
The skies are dark and grey
and a lot stands in her way
not only this war

She joins her mother’s cries
wrapped with the grey blanket
Cries of rockets heard as well
emigrants from other tents cry too

Fear breaks into her tent
Smoke coming out of the tent
mixed with cries, screams, and wails
The tent shakes
The tent collapses

Her mattress is rubbles
Her blanket is ash
Her cries gone in vain
Just like humanity
Silence!
Many babies don't expect to come to this life to start it in war, but they do.
Ylzm Jan 23
Israel foreshadowed in Egypt
Untouched by the Plaques
Passed over by the Destroyer
Egypt broken and bowed
With strangers, Israel walked free
Handsomely ransomed, a nation is born
So shall Israel again be in the Tribulation
As light for sight and salt to taste
And again with strangers
In haste and with bitterness
Come out of the World
Raptured as the First born of God
Ssoho Jan 8
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https://dennislaj.wixsite.com/website
Mikey Kania Dec 2019
true inspiration is hard to
find since inspiration will
find you

don't you sleep ever again; you
could miss something
a DEEP attachment... check out youtube: OFFICIAL Somewhere over the Rainbow - Israel "IZ" Kamakawiwoʻole
Mohammed Arafat Sep 2019
Sitting on my bed,

with a red apple with my hand,

while looking at a map in front of me,

I am eager to eat my fruit,

but that map takes my attention.

The map of Palestine!



I gape at it,

for seconds.

My eyes are watering,

My heart is melting.

My hands are trembling,

My forehead is sweating.



I see Gaza isolated,

Jerusalem separated,

the west bank eliminated,

chaos created,

the case complicated.



I cannot speak up,

or write up,

for reasons we know.

The only way to criticise or to oppose though,

is through my mind.



In my mind,

I curse the occupation,

its oppression,

nd its crimes.

I curse our kaleidoscopic political parties,

their hypocrisy,

and their lies.



Mohammed Arafat

06-09-2019
I wrote this poem to reflect on how I feel towards not being able to speak up for the rights of my people
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